The Ebb and Flo Affair
by Morpheus Dream Maker
Summary: Murder is a bound in a small and quaint little inn in the village of Dover. When some of the guest begin to be murdered, while one Miss Jane Marple is holidaying in Dover and is also a guest of the same inn. Now what connects these victims seems to the Ebb and Flo foundation and could these murders be connected to the death of retired Lieutenant colonel Ebenezer Waverton?


**Disclaimer:** I don't own the rights to Miss Marple for she is the idea of a great mystery novelist Agatha Christie and her estate or whomever truly does own the rights to Miss Marple. I am using Jane Marple and her setting to tell a good mystery fanfic, hopefully in the same fashion of the great Miss Christie. Lastly I am not getting paid to do this and so am doing it simply to write out this very insane little plot bunny who hopped into my head and has refused to leave unless I write him or her out to its conclusion.

**The Ebb and Flo Affair by Morpheus_Dream_Maker**

**Prologue:**

**Murder in Mr. Waverton's Office**

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"That isn't an adequate answer to my questions of the foundations' finances Mr. Carson!" Bellowed a very gruff leather red face old man as he sat behind a very elegantly oak desk. The light from lamp lite the office while the full moon shinned outside in the clear night sky behind the high back winged chair. "You don't take that tone with me for I have serviced much of my life for King and country, both in the Great War and in this second war on the continent!" The old man with a slight port belly in his white button up shirt, black tie and dark brown braces that held up his dark tan trousers as he sat up straight in the high backed chair.

" As chairman of the foundation, I will give you one week Mr. Carson to find out where the missing funds are, and I also want to see the foundation's books by the end of business next Friday! Now they better show where the funds for the Ebb and Flo foundations have gotten off to sir!" The old man blistered loudly into the mouthpiece of his rotatory phone's white and gilded receiver, tightly gripped in one of his beefy and wrinkled tanned hand. "If you can't do that sir, I will then use every bit of my energy that made me a Lieutenant colonel in the army before I retired sir! I will have you as the accountant for the foundation brought up on charges of embezzlement, and punished within the full extent of the law!" The man in his early sixty shouted before he slammed the receiver down onto the phone's cradle and then panting a bit heavily as his chest heaves, as he glanced about his finely decorated office and even to the sideboard.

He seemed to look at the crystal decanter filled with brandy on the sideboard along with a few glasses, and with an expression that spoke that he was thinking to take a sip of the sinful creature. Though with his better judgement he shook his head, he turned off the light from his lamp on the desk beside the framed photographs of a happy looking family and children.

The old man than hosts himself out of his chair and begins to storm across his very finely decorated office in the shimmering silvery white moonlight. His very shinny leather black shoes trended over the hard brandy brown hard floor moves briefly over a very colorfully and well-crafted Persian rug on his trip to the door to his office. His hands had only just reached out for both his coat and dark brown bowler hat on a coat rack, when the door to his office burst open and his eyes grew wide as a figure stepped over the threshold. The coat falling to the floor with a clatter just moments before the bang of a fired gun echoes within the office and the old man collapsed backwards onto the Persian rug a bloody bullet wound in his right temple.

The person who entered the office moved quickly to lean over the old man's corpse briefly and drop a revolver beside the old man's right hand. They then strolled swiftly the brown trousers briefly stepped between the moonlight of the corpse; for which a large pool of blood had formed around the head and as soaked up into the Persian rug. The person grasps with black leather gloves at the drapes that framed the windows in the office closed before they pulled out a torch and click on the light that turned swiftly down to the blotter of the dead old man's desk before one gloved hand moved to open the draws and rummage through papers. In a short time it seemed the person came upon the papers the they were seeking, snatched them up before all the draws were closed and the person hurried back to the office door closing it behind them. The person then locked the door from the outside and fled leaving building leaving the lone dead occupant to remain bleeding out on the Persian rug alone for the rest of the night.

The figure exited the building from the side door and disappeared through the open passenger side door and into a simple dark Swallow Doretti that speed off almost promptly as the passenger side door closed and speed off into the night away from the brick office building and through the streets of London.

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**Author's Note:** For those of you who are reading this mystery fanfic and love to try to solve mysteries be advised that there will be hints/ clues as to whom the murder is throughout the coming chapters. Though I will tell you right now I shalln't point them out and you will have to sift through all the information you get in the chapters, and try and pick out those hints and clues from the misleading ones that will peppered along with actual hints and clues in this fanfic. Now for those who don't care to try and solve the mystery of whom the murder is please simply sit back and enjoy the fanfic if you like for its entertainment value and getting lost in a bit of a mystery fanfic.


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